It
seems as though a lot of Customers From Hell are of the stinky variety. The worst one I had thankfully always wanted the same fags, at the same time every other day, and he always paid with a £20 note. The first time he came in I had no idea and actually vomited out the back. Over time, I learnt to hold my breath just as he came in, have his fags and change ready on the till, and keep holding it until he'd left the shop. Probably killed a few brain cells doing it but it was better than smelling it.

Oh, and then there were the fat smelly sweaty taxi drivers who would keep a bum bag tucked under the belly fold like a little Joey and fish out slightly damp notes when they paid for their petrol. That was always good fun.
(GONEism, Tue 9 Sep 2008, 20:30, Reply)